


The Beginning

by WritingElephant



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: F/M, Self Harm, Sexual References, violate - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingElephant/pseuds/WritingElephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hat was when he saw it. He recognized something in her. It was a darkness he had only ever seen in himself before; and he was tired of being alone." Yeah... This is basically Tate's perspective on everything that happened between him and Violet in the pilot and a little while after that. Sexual references and self harm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning

Hey so I know this isn’t exactly the most original idea ever, but I really wanted to write it so I did. :) I hope you enjoy it. 

He saw her before she saw him. 

She was dressed in a long floral dress and a massive yellow cardigan; ridiculously bulky clothes for summer in California. She had on a frown that seemed to be permanently glued to her face as she studied the house. Whenever her parents would try to talk to her she would snap back at them with a sarcastic grunt. He heard the mother call her Violet. 

Tate liked the look of her. But then that wasn’t saying much. When you were stuck in the same building for seventeen years any new person would seem fascinating. Although, Tate wondered how he would have taken to this girl if she was some skinny blonde bimbo. Probably not as well. Be that as it may, Tate still didn’t understand. He didn’t know how special she was yet. No, that wasn’t until later.

A day later to be precise. 

He had just come out of his appointment with the doctor. He liked the guy. Talking to him for an hour each week would be… interesting to say the least. Although he sort of had an assholish look about him, he also seemed to have a relatively good -if stupid nature. He decided to go take another look at the daughter. 

The good thing about being a ghost was that you could see people’s private, ugly practices that they would never do in the company of other people like making faces at themselves in the mirror or picking at blisters. Tate found there was something intimate about the practice. Like he was seeing their true selves.

He walked into his old bedroom which now belonged to her only to find that it was empty. He looked around, confused. He liked what she had done with the place. She kept it dark, but he didn’t mind that at all. It made him feel at home. The bowl of decapitated doll heads helped too. He was about to leave and hunt for her in other places when he heard a rustle coming from the bathroom. With a smile, he followed the sound.

When he entered the bathroom he froze. He felt as if his stomach had turned into a bowling ball. There was blood, standing out ferociously against the linoleum and her creamy skin. He could only really describe that moment as red with the fiery look of concentration in her furrowed brow and the way his heart was pumping.

I drown in it.

That was when he saw it. He recognised something in her. It was a darkness he had only ever seen in himself before; and he was tired of being alone. 

Her eyes rolled back in her head with that hazy sort of euphoria that only pain and sex could bring. He knew that all the bullshit was pouring out of her with the blood - leaving only pure fire in her veins. It was throbbingly beautiful.

He hated to break the rough bliss of that moment, but he had to say something to her. She had to know that moment didn’t just belong to her. I would be the first thing they ever shared.

“You’re doing it wrong” he informed her, a smile creeping in the edges of his mouth.

She span around at the speed of light. She looked like a deer in the head lights. 

“If you’re trying to kill yourself,” he went on, “cut vertically. They can’t stitch that up.”

“How did you get in here?” she demanded.

“If you’re trying to kill yourself, you might also try locking the door” he amended, flashing his teeth at her. 

He shut the door behind him and he was all of a sudden out of breath. He stalked downstairs to deal with his massive hard-on. 

. . .

She was stalking back and forward across the room, her hands clenched at her sides. She was yelling about some bitchy girl at her school and had a look of unadulterated hatred burning in her eyes. Tate didn’t think he had ever seen anything so erotic. 

“I hate her! I want to kill her!” Violet screeched. 

“Then do it” he told her. And he meant it too. He would help her do it. They would wipe that bitch away from the universe; it’s not like she deserved a place in it anyway. Tate liked the idea, him and Violet would be like Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime. 

She dismissed the thought without a second thought. It was probably just as well. The last thing Tate wanted to do was spend eternity in a house with some magazine-cut-out whore. Still, he was a little disappointed. The idea of killing with Violet was the most exciting thing Tate had heard of in years. But then that didn’t mean there was no fun to be had.

He told her he could scare her and she was automatically intrigued. She turned on her heels and focused her big doe eyes on him. He felt his face heat up. He old her to get the girl to the basement and he would take care of the rest.

He could tell how thrilling she found all this. He could see her shining with the exhilaration of being totally in control of another person. He knew she could hardly wait. He knew because he could feel it too.

It was like a miracle; he had found someone like him. Someone he could share this glory with. She would be the dark queen to his king, and together they would reign over their own fiery kingdom. A hell for the new age. 

She smiled at him. He could see she was thinking the same things as him. It was so beautiful.

. . .  
He waited all day, gnawing at his fingernails and running his fingers through his hair. He wanted everything to be perfect. He set up the basement like it was a movie set; creating the perfect ambiance for the scene he was about to perform. When everything was in its place, he took his position. 

He waited, anxiously, until they finally arrived. When he heard them coming down the stairs his hand gripped the rocking chair in excitement. A wide, goofy grin spread across his face, but he forcibly composed himself. The idea here was to dominate the girl. He couldn’t let her know that on the inside he felt like a child on christmas day. 

They entered and he got into character. He was a soldier in the noble war. He was a fallen angel. He was the God of death. He recited his carefully cultivated line.

“So this is the coke whore.”

The girl looked bewildered, but not scared yet. That was okay, though. That would come with time. He felt a smirk curl across his lips. 

“Get the lights.” 

For the first time since she had come in, he allowed himself to look at Violet. Their eyes locked and she gave him a smile that knocked the breath out of him. She flicked the switch. He let the monster out. 

Chaos. That was the only word or it. Glorious fucking chaos. The lights flickered on and off coloring the air with panic. He caught flashes at that bitch’s face. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the monster and her arms were flailing around in all directions. Tate couldn’t help but laugh. She was getting what she deserved and he so enjoyed watching it, knowing that it was him that made it happen. Him and-

The lights came back on.The girl stumbled to her feet and ran out of the room squealing. Tate stayed his seat smiling. They had done it.  
“Get away!” he heard Violet scream as she chased her out of the room. Tate smiled as he approached her from behind. Her gentle appearance made it all the more exciting when she became fierce. It was like being scratched by a kitten. Beautiful.

“I don’t think she’ll be bothering you anymore” he said, only the tiniest bit gloatingly. 

“What was that?” Violet screamed, whirling around. 

She was confused, naturally. Him and the infantata had put on quite the show. It really sucked that he couldn’t just come out with it and tell her about the ghost thing. But he wasn’t going to be taking any chances no matter how bad he wanted there to be nothing secret between them. 

“What are you talking about? She kneed me in the balls and got away. She must have ran into the wall or something” he explained. He found himself talking really fast and couldn’t work out why. 

“No I saw something!” 

It was then that everything shattered. All his preconceptions about her tumbled away. She was no longer a goddess of darkness; she was just a girl scared of the monsters lurking in the dark corners of the basement. It was obvious from the way she was shaking, the way her voice broke, the way she looked at him with her wide, terrified doe eyes. She wasn’t confused, she was just plain afraid.

Tate expected to feel cheated. All he had ever wanted was someone who truly understood him. He had thought that he had found a partner in his gloom. That he had finally met someone who saw what a rotten shithole this place really is. He should feel angry and upset and betrayed to have been deprived of all that.

But he surprised himself; his first instinct was to deny everything. He felt cheap for it, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get that look of her face. He couldn’t take her looking at him like he was hell on earth; even if it wasn’t such a far off estimation. 

“What are you talking about? Violet, you’re talking crazy.” he spluttered, taking a few steps closer to her. “This is good. We showed that bitch.”

“Get out! I never want to see you again!” she screamed, teeth gritted.

This wasn’t good. He had to do something. He stepped in closer, but the impact of her hands hitting his shoulders sent him stumbling back. Before he could respond, she bolted up the stairs.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything!” he screamed after her. 

. . .  
That night she slept with the light on and the baseball bat from the hall cupboard was missing. He had made her scared. He wondered how long it took her to get to sleep. Did she inspect every shadowy corner of her room to see if the monster was there? When she finally got to sleep, did she have nightmares? Was he in them?

Tate blinked away the image. This girl was braver than that. But she looked terrified -which was probably the reaction he should’ve expected; it being the normal reaction and all. He whacked his head against the wall. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid” he mumbled. 

He didn’t know what was happening to him. There was just this heavy feeling in his stomach and his head just kept flashing back to her face when it had all gone wrong. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Maybe he was guilty? Maybe he was just upset that things hadn’t gone the way he wanted them to? Fuck if he knew. But it all just kept going around and around in his head on a loop. 

No he thought. Just stop. Go to sleep. Stop.

He lay down on his back and cut all his thoughts short. He started to imagine he was somewhere different -somewhere better, so that he could eventually drift off to sleep…

But then something occurred to him. He shot up into sitting position. Had the infantata hurt Violet? He hadn’t seen any cuts or bruises on her after everything, but it had all happened so fast. Without thinking he got to his feet and rushed up the stairs. 

Why did he even care? he puzzled over that question relentlessly as he stalked up to her room. He didn’t have an answer. All he really understood was that he never wanted to see looking like she had after he let the monster out. And maybe, just maybe… that was enough?

. . .  
After his next session with Dr. Harmon he went and apologised to Violet. It was hell waiting the entire week to see her again, but he assumed it wasn’t in his best interests to barge in unannounced. She would probably want some space after everything that had happened.

But the fact that he couldn’t talk to her didn’t stop him from watching her. He saw her quickly recover from the fright that he had given her and put back up her grungy persona. He saw her groan when she found out it was her night on dishes. He saw her do her homework. he saw her lie on her bed for hours just listening to music. He saw her pet their dog. He thought it was so beautiful.

Something else he watched her do was cut herself. For some reason it didn’t strike the same excitement in him it had before. He wondered she ever thought about him while she did it and his throat closed up. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want that. Maybe he would hide her razors. 

But eventually the day of his session came and he didn’t just have to watch her in silence anymore. He could finally say the words he had been planning since the night it had all gone down. It was like Christmas day. 

He made sure to be very careful when knocking on her door; his taps not too aggressive, but loud enough to be heard. It was three perky, rhythmic knocks. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, gently. 

Silence. Tate just about turned away.

“Okay” she finally answered. 

He shoved the door open and it swung back and hit her wall. She raised an eyebrow and he swallowed. 

“Sorry” he said.

“It’s okay” she chuckled. 

“No… I mean sorry about what happened yesterday” he muttered. “I was out of line.”

Tate took a deep breath and looked up from his scuffed shoes. She was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed. She chewed on her bottom lip while she looked at him. Tate felt that as long as she had held him in that stare he would have done anything she said, and he wouldn’t even have minded. After a few more moments of her egregious eyes she had mercy on him.

“Don’t worried about it” she said, shrugging. “I overreacted.” 

Tate didn’t truly know the meaning of the word relieved until that moment. He promised himself he would do everything he could to make sure she never told him to go away again. 

. . .  
It had been a few weeks and they had been hanging out non-stop. Tate had been thrilled when she invited him over on days other than the ones when he had to come to the house to therapy. Most of the time when he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her. 

He did feel guilty about lying to her… to an extent. He would probably feel a bit more guilty if it was easier to think around her. It’s just that when he was arounder he didn’t feel like Tate the murderer or Tate the dead kid; he felt like the Tate he should have been. 

Did he enjoy being this better version himself? Yes. But mostly he just enjoyed her. He enjoyed listening to her moody music. He enjoyed seeing her laugh. He enjoyed her snappy comments. He enjoyed perving on her bookshelf. He enjoyed learning all he could about her. He felt like every time he did she was giving him a little piece of herself. He would guard those pieces with his life. 

As the sunny, smoky days passed Tate felt himself melt further and further into her. He beginning to wonder if he really could just be this Tate and no one else. Tate couldn’t answer that question. But he knew that whatever this was it was good… and maybe, just maybe he could be too. 

 

This wasn’t as good as I had wanted it to be, but hey I tried really hard. Thank you so much for reading this. Reviews make me happy xoxoxo.


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